Tom Riddle - Origins of a Dark Lord
by user1444
Summary: This is a branch off of "Tom Riddle and Conflicts of Interest".
1. Chapter 1

As Tom sat in the musty waiting room, staring at nothing, kicking his legs against his chair, Madam Chani frowned over her novel as she appraised her surroundings.

"Out of all the children over all the years, only three have forced my hand thus far! The good Lord knows I've no truck with _psycho-analysis_ , but there is no other option if you are to continue living with us, after all that's happened."

Tom kicked harder. "If you don't like it, we needn't be here."

The old woman shook her head. "How many times must I explain? The magistrate would whip you if you hadn't promised to come to the clinic! Not to mention breaking your probation! And you a lad of only eight!"

Tom sniffed. He was almost nine, and not an idiot. He was well aware that his behaviour was illegal, but he didn't actually understand why. It wasn't as if anyone actually was hurt, and when he asked the magistrate, the man stammered that he didn't see why he should have to explain himself to a boy. In other words, thought Tom, he didn't know why either. But it wasn't surprising: Tom Riddle had long noticed that he was smarter than every single other person he met.

To his guardian he simply replied, "Oh, I see."

"Hmph! I doubt that severely! Indeed! I've had bad children, I've had strange children, and I've had frightening children, but to encounter all three wrapped into one package! I'd sooner have you out of my home, but alas, am obligated to give you this chance." She then shot Tom a quick look of contempt before getting back to her novel.

Tom gritted his teeth. _You'll get that wish one day, never fear, old hag._

"Tom Riddle?" A voice called from behind a desk. Tom rose, asked "Yes?" and was pointed toward an office.

He walked in and was greeted by an old man with a hunchback and no hair. "Hello Tom! How are you today?" The doctor said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"I'm good sir, how are you?" Tom asked as he took a seat on the sofa.

"Quite well, Tom, quite well!" Dr. Ormskirk made a note of something on his pad. "Well, my boy, have you thought about what we talked about last time?" The man was leaning forward and looking at Tom strangely.

 _Is he trying to appear interested in me or something?_

"Yes sir, and I realize you were right. No matter what the reason, you have to allow a person to privacy." The practiced speech rolled smoothly off his tongue.

"Not only did you violate their privacy, Tom, you went much further…" The doctor was scribbling notes again. 

Tom had to bite his lip so he wouldn't scream about just deserts, which inspired him on the next thing he should say. "Yes sir I know, I acted very wrongly. I was angry, sir, so angry I couldn't think, but now that I know, I'll be able to take a step back to calm down, so anger won't control me again." Tom peeped at the Doctor to see if he found that believable, but he was confiding his thoughts to his notepad rather than Tom.

"Interesting idea, you may be right," The doctor said. "But anger issues, along with, other deeper problems. You seem to be ignoring that." Once again he was punishing his notepad. After another long moment of scribbling he added, "I also feel as though I am being manipulated in some way here, Tom…" The man's pen was cocked and ready to unload in rapid fire again, but he was staring at Tom, deep into his eyes.

Tom made his eyes go wide and bewildered. "Muh-nip-you-late-ed? I'm sure I don't know what that means, sir… Anyways I know that I tend to get angry, and I know why I get angry, and how to prevent it getting to where I do something foolish. I think that especially now that I've thought about it so much, it will be less of a problem."

The man went on as if he hadn't heard him. "Everybody gets angry Tom, everybody makes foolish mistakes. Some of those people end up suffering consequences for those choices they made in the moment, whether that is striking somebody out of anger, or throwing a stone through a window after a few drinks. You, my boy, didn't act in the moment, what you did required premeditation, calm collected planning and execution."

Tom had to bite his lip again, this time to prevent a smile. _Only half an hour of planning. Suppose an hour, and I wouldn't've been caught at it this time._

"Honestly sir, my mind's a bit of a muddle. Maybe all that anger was building up for so long that it just took a spark to kind of ignite and burn hot and long before withering out…" Tom tried.

"And you are convinced it has 'withered out,' as you put it?" the doctor asked carefully.

 _Never._ "It seems so, sir."

"What if there is an ember left yet, and somebody starts to blow on it again? Will it become a flame once more?" Tom could almost hear the pad of paper sighing in relief at the momentary break.

"Maybe…" Tom allowed, before continuing, "I think I know how to smother it before anything like this happens again."

 _I'll take my time and plan when I am calm so I don't make stupid mistakes…_

The doctor didn't seem convinced, or perhaps he really wanted to use up all the ink in that pen, the scraping of ink on paper almost sounded like screams of pain from the defenseless pages. After he wrote for a minute or two, he turned to Tom, staring at him.

Tom sat there, looking curiously into the doctor's eyes for several minutes as the doctor matched his gaze.

Odd flashes of imagery crossed Tom's mind so briefly that he couldn't comprehend them. The man broke his gaze and Tom noticed that he seemed slightly uncomfortable for some reason.

 _Once again, I win a staring contest._

Dr. Ormskirk rubbed his head, sighed, made a few more notes and then spoke again. "I think we are going to require a few more sessions yet, Tom. You aren't being truthful with me, and there is a lot more we need to get to the bottom of."

 _O God! Will this nonsense ever end?_

Tom had hoped that "needing counseling" would give him a more feared reputation at home; it had only done the opposite and given the stronger kids another reason to pick on him...

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 _November 5th:_

"Guy, Guy, Guy! Poke him in the eye!"

The orphaned boys made quite merry over being allowed to make their own bonfire, and sang and danced - all but one, who crouched far from the circle of children, quite close to the fire.

The yellow and orange tendrils of fire licked upwards into the darkness, spewing bright white sparks which danced in the wind and faded away. Tom continued to stare into the blaze; the sound of the song being sung around him by a few of the children was washed out by the cracks, pops and sizzling of the burning wood.

The fire obscured all of his perceptions and engulfed him. The longer Tom watched the flames, the more he felt like they were part of him. There was something other than heat that reached out from the fire and washed over Tom.

Tom noticed a moth buzzing around - the wind changed momentarily, the flames reached too close, and it burned up with a quick hiss. Tom smiled in amusement.

 _Foolish creature, venture too close to the flames and you will be consumed._

A quick flash of pain across the back of his head brought Tom back into reality: the fat boy Jameson was now more powerful than even the fire…

"Why aren't you singing along with the other arses, Riddle?" The boy was always asking stupid questions.

"I don't like this song." Tom replied simply, as he rubbed the sting out of the back of his head where he had been slapped.

Jameson nudged Tom with his flabby side. "Why not? Are you a Catholic? Then we can burn you too, you seem to like it so much. I'll help you in if you like." The fat boy kept bumping him further and further as he spoke.

Tom had been painfully taught to hold his tongue, but he wanted badly to inform Jameson of his own fiery fate. But Jameson would once again use his weight to overcome Tom if he spoke up. Tom would probably find himself on the ground begging for mercy while vowing silent vengeance as the other children laughed.

Jameson leaned back a little further and pushed toward Tom extra hard this time to completely knock him down. Tom held steady, and stood up just as Jameson was about to impact him, leaving him to fall into the dirt as he simply walked to the other side of the fire, where Matthew Merrick was quietly sitting alone.

"Yeah, run away Tom! I'll see you later." Jameson's voice sounded less angry than it ought, almost as though the warmth of the flames this close washed away a little of the power the boy had over Tom. Jameson kept speaking as Tom was making his way to Merrick, but the quiet roar of the camp fire prevented noise like an invisible wall.

Tom sat down beside Matthew and looked at the boy; he nodded at Tom. Tom returned the nod, knowing that was all the interaction the boy would expect, or want from him. That was precisely why he preferred Matthew's company to any of the other children's.

Tom glanced back over towards Jameson, taking some effort to ignore the flames, and he noticed the fat boy had forgotten that Tom existed and was now tormenting some other smaller child.

 _Always picking on those smaller and weaker... coward!_

Tom didn't let the fat boy occupy his thoughts too long: the fire was calling to him.

He stared into the white orange glow. While there were children standing close to the flame and warming their hands, Tom didn't notice them, they were outside the fire.

The flames had texture to them, they weren't quite a substance, but they were... _something_. They felt like that _something_ that Tom could just feel in the air sometimes, and he could feel it now.

The base of the fire was orange coals, spewing sparks and giving life to snakes of flame. As Tom watched the coals, they seemed to glow stronger, orange slowly became white, as though a wind was fanning them and raising the temperature.

Tom let his eyes creep upwards a little and look at the bottom of the flames, wide and inconsistent.

 _Fire should not waver or flicker…_

(The children standing near the inferno stepped back a couple of paces suddenly, but Tom failed to notice that.)

Tom watched the tongues of fire reach upwards, moving back and forth, as though they were waving to him. He could almost see shapes forming - the long thin streaks of flames started to look more like snakes. Tom's head turned to the side and his mouth opened a little as he watched... the snakes had form, he could see their heads, and their tongues lashing out. He could see their scales and eyes, their colors even…

Tom blinked twice; the blues, greens, purples and other colors that fire shouldn't have started to fade away, and Tom was sure he had imagined it, though when he looked around a few of the other children had confused looks on their faces as well.

Madam Chani had returned from wherever she had gone an hour ago to leave the group to their own devices, and she was walking a little unsteadily. Her voice however was as loud and clear as ever.

"All together now children, back home we go."

She didn't actually look at any of the children when she said it, but they all heard, and they obeyed. Slowly they gathered their things and made their way back to the orphanage.

Nearly everybody was walking home, but Tom lingered walking slowing and watching the fire.

 _Somebody should have put that out, there are leaves everywhere…_

Nobody else seemed to care that there was an unattended bonfire blazing in the middle of London; Tom didn't understand why he was the only one who saw the potential in the strange, indescribable power which coursed through a fire.

 _It'll be 1666 all over again._

Tom caught up to the line of orphans, but he couldn't help staring at the sky as he walked. He made out Orion, and Cygnus, and -

"Eyes front, Riddle," said his roommate, Alexander, who'd he'd just bumped into.

Tom slowed his pace just enough that he wouldn't stumble, and let the majesty of the Milky Way absorb him on the walk home.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom sat in a chair in the garden, reading a short _Wilderness Survival Guide_ he had once stolen from the leavings of an adoption.

Tom didn't expect to find himself lost in the woods, but it was certainly more educational than the children's books in the "Library" at the home. "How to collect rainwater" beat reading foolish rhymes about monkeys, certainly.

The notes on how to build a fire were interesting as well, although, Tom had tried it before, and found it was a thousand times easier than the book would lead you to believe; rather than a few sparks and smoke, the wood would almost burst into flame.

It was unfortunately tricky to read with only one good eye, as the other was half swelled shut. Tom had informed Madam Chani that he had fallen upon questioning. _Not that she would have cared either way._

He had tried to fight back before, his poor efforts only encouraging more physical assaults, but when he tried to ignore it altogether, they simply kept escalating until Tom ended up saying or doing something even more provoking.

Tom had been taking mental notes though; Jameson relied on surprise attacks and his large body mass. Yesterday the large youth came out of nowhere with the punch to his face. Perhaps he could be teased about missing his other eye, and then Tom could dodge and trip him.

 _It might work, but then again he may do something totally different… I would have to consider every possible move he could make…_

Tom rubbed his forehead. _Time to plan to defeat my enemies later._

Tom would have liked to have his friends around him as he read; they were better company than most of the children here. Unfortunately, being so friendly with snakes only added to the scorn he received, so he only talked with his friends in private. A few were sleeping in the bushes now - he had briefly woken them to say hello when he came out, but then let them be for now. If he wanted to talk to them, they would be there waiting for him.

The side door opened and Matthew came walking around the bushes. He saw, but did not acknowledge, Tom, aside from walking out toward the concrete wall behind him, and jumping up to have a seat.

Tom went back to reading his short book; there were diagrams on how to build a snare to catch a rabbit, including vivid descriptions of how to exactly skin and gut the creature. Tom was so absorbed in the book that he never noticed Nickerson come out until the boy asked, "What are you doing up there, Merrick, you goon?"

Tom looked up to see Nickerson talking to Matthew, who was still perched on the wall.

"You were bothering me, so I came out here." Tom took note of the utter blankness in his expression.

"So you ran away!" Nickerson was laughing now, but Matthew stared in the opposite direction and barely said, "Hmm."

Nickerson seemed to lose some interest in Matthew when the boy provided absolutely no real response.

Tom felt real envy; if Nickerson had bothered and called him names, he might have been able to pretend to not be angry, but it was obvious that Matthew didn't care what anyone did to him. _That's the trick; I need to learn how to appear so careless, or rather be so careless._

Nickerson looked down at Tom, a sneer on his face, clearly still interested in picking on someone. Tom just looked back at him - and imagined Nickerson had been caught in a snare, and he was starting to skin him.

Apparently Nickerson had remembered something else which required his attention, because he simply turned and walked back into the house.

Tom set his book down and hopped up the wall to Matthew, "How did you do that?" He asked the odd boy.

"Do what?" Matthew was still absentmindedly looking at the trees.

A little irritated, Tom explained, "How did you just brush Nickerson off like that? When I try it doesn't work…"

"Nickerson? Is he the one who was talking to me a minute ago?"

"Well, yes," Tom replied, slightly confused.

"Did I brush him off? He wasn't worth paying attention to, so I wasn't." Matthew replied before he hopped down from the wall. He started to walk away.

"Am I not worth paying attention to?" Tom asked the boy as he left.

Matthew just shrugged his shoulders and went back inside the house.

 _It seems like everyone is beneath him, not even worthy of consideration. The bullies can't bully him because they don't even exist to him…_

Tom couldn't simply look down on the bullies that way; they were stupid, but they were stronger than Tom, and if they tried, could kill him. He just couldn't ignore that, he was smarter and that ought to mean more than being stronger, or tougher.

He went back to reading his book, reviewing especially the diagrams of the rabbit.

Really, there was quite a bit of useful information in this little book.

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It was Tom's least favorite part of the day, Wireless Radio time… Why Madam Chani insisted that an hour of listening to Goofy Gary on that bloody box every day was necessary, Tom could not understand, except perhaps it gave her more time when she didn't have to deal with the "runts", as she called them.

Tom was on the end of the sofa, being squished between the armrest and Nickerson. Nickerson was Jameson's "best friend", but Tom considered him more of a minion. Nickerson was smaller than Jameson, and therefore less scary. Also, his eyes couldn't withstand a staring contest the way Jameson's could. Unfortunately, he was far crueler than Jameson, perhaps because he wasn't as strong or forward.

Tom had noticed Jameson rush out of the house crying earlier; it had filled him with a great satisfaction, knowing that he had at least a few true friends. Friends who looked up to you, and did anything you told them too without question or hesitation.

 _I hope it was Apophis who did it; Jameson might not ever come back…_

Tom wasn't really listening to the program, he was picking at the worn out armrest on the sofa. He had no interest in the erratic behavior of the voice actor playing the part of a clown.

The clown's overly flamboyant voice rang through the speakers. "Oh oh! Knock knock! Somebody is at the door! I wonder who it could be." Several of the younger children tensed up in anticipation.

"I wonder if it's Mailman Sam… Like it is every other day, half way through the show…" Tom said sarcastically to himself. Not quietly enough.

Nickerson punched Tom hard enough to make him wince. Nickerson wasn't strong enough to get away with hurting most boys, but Tom knew better than to retaliate right now.

"Shut up Riddle, nobody cares who you think it is," he snorted to the air above Tom's head as the voice of "Mailman Sam" rang out with "The Daily Delivery."

 _Radio time is ridiculous, I don't want to listen to this childish program, and even less do I want to sit with these idiots. I wish the radio would just blow up…_

Tom dreamed, he visualized the power suddenly surging and causing the radio to erupt in a shower of –

* ** _CRACK*_**

The ancient wireless set suddenly seemed to split in two - smoke started billowing out of what used to be the set, and most of the children had jumped up at the sudden noise and flash of light, and were now either crying or yelling for help. Tom remained seated on the sofa, wide-eyed and smiling.

 _It happened! How? How!?_

This couldn't be a coincidence, not this time. There were a lot of coincidences around him that seemed incredible, although he usually figured they were simple accidents. When he was younger, he thought he might be a djinn, or a fairy changeling, for his wishes would come true - but not very often. Not nearly often enough, and Tom was too clever and rational to really believe in Grimm's tales.

 _The wireless had a broken tube when Madam bought it, she often complained about how quiet it was. It's amazing it lasted this long._

The only other child who wasn't in some state of high emotion over the loss of the radio was Matthew. The boy was in a chair on the other side of the room staring at the smoking ruin with a blank expression, and his head tilted in mild curiosity.

Madam Chani was still away, and she delegated responsibility to the oldest boy, Dennis Bishop. Madam considered him to be the most responsible, even though he was anything but. Obviously, as he wasn't bothering to unplug the wireless. Instead, he herded the children into the kitchen, "It's time for supper!"

Tom didn't really care if the older boy left the radio there to burn down the house, he half hoped it would. So he got up to join the others in the kitchen for their meager supper, noticing that Matthew at least had the presence of mind to go and open the window to air out the lingering smoke in the air.

When Tom got to the kitchen there was only a couple of sandwiches left, he made sure nobody was looking, took one of the cheese sandwiches, stuffed it into his pocket and started eating another now. He had grown tired of going hungry. Not so much because of how it made him feel, but rather because he knew he would stay small and weak unless he ate more.

It didn't feel good to steal food simply because he wanted it; it felt nice to stick it to Madam Chani and anybody else who might care.

It was getting easier and easier to take what he needed; the pantry was only warded by a simple padlock. So when Tom had a few free moments, and the kitchen was empty, he would simply use a coin he had filed down on the sidewalk to unscrew the hinges and open the door from the other side to stock up on food.

The children were expected to all sit around the large oak table for meals, so Tom joined the others and took a seat beside a boy named Stephenson; he was a year younger than Tom and smaller as well.

 _No wonder he's so small, he isn't eating anything…_

"Why don't you ever eat? I know it isn't much, but you have to be hungry…" Tom asked the sad looking boy as he took a bite of his own stale sandwich.

"I can't." The boy said it very meekly and in a tone that made Tom curious.

"Are you ill? You should ask to see a doctor if…" Tom stopped as he noticed that Stephenson was staring at Nickerson.

"Is he stealing your food straight up? Or is he threatening you in some way?" It wasn't really a question; Tom was familiar with Nickerson's tactics.

The runty child beside him was almost too scared to speak, Tom hated that. At least he tried to stand up for himself when it was wise to do so, and take vengeance for the times when it wasn't.

The smaller boy sighed and very quietly said, "He said every time he catches me eating more than my share, he's to give me a hard punch in the stomach to get his share back…" The boy stared at the table, never looking at Tom.

"What does he consider your fair share?" Tom asked, already suspecting the answer.

"I don't know, I started eating an apple yesterday, and he walked past as I was half finished, and he knocked it out of me hand, and hit me…" The boy's voice was sinking as he spoke. Tom wasn't in the habit of feeling sorry for someone too pathetic to stand up for himself, but he truly hated bullies trying to dictate one's eating habits.

Tom decided if anyone had to, he would dictate when Stephenson ate. He took his second sandwich out and passed it under the table to set it on the boy's lap. "Take it back to your room, and eat it under the blankets if you must," Tom told him.

The boy looked at Tom in disbelief. "Thank you, Riddle."

Tom disregarded that and went on, "I'll get you food any time you like, and I've found a way to get into the pantry with… I can get in is the point. And stop looking so happy, or Nickerson will know something is going on…" Although, it was the way the boy was looking at him that made him feel uncomfortable.

At the mention of Nickerson's name, Stephenson looked over at the bully with an expression Tom was all too familiar with: loathing. "I hate him and Jameson too… I'm glad Jameson got hurt today somehow, he deserved it. I wish Nickerson would get hurt too," he said in a fierce little voice.

Tom smiled at that, and glanced up at the ceiling fan spinning overtop the boy's head.

 _It would be nice if it simply fell on him and knocked some sense into his head…_

Tom almost actually expected it to fall, and when it didn't, he realized he was mildly disappointed that his wish hadn't come true.

 _Don't be ridiculous, if you want it to fall on him climb up and loosen the bolts and attach a string to pull when he steps under, wishes don't come true._

Hours later, Madam Chani returned. Tom was in his shared room upstairs at the time, but he knew she was back by her scream, "TOM RIDDLE! GET DOWN HERE!"

Tom reluctantly got up and walked past his roommates, who were whispering about what he may have done this time. At the head of the stairs, he could see her down below, clearly furious.

When he got to the bottom and approached her, without a word she grabbed him by the collar of his nightshirt, and roughly pulled him toward her office. The old woman was surprisingly strong.

Once inside, she flung Tom into the chair across from her desk and stood there facing him.

"Jameson says you snuck into his room and put a snake in his bed! Nickerson saw you in the garden grabbing the snake and putting it in your jacket!" Her face grew more florid as she spoke. "The snake bit Jameson! When he climbed into bed! He had changed into his nightshirt, and the snake bit him! On a most delicate spot!"

Tom figured if the boy had died this would be a different conversation, so he didn't have to ask.

"Madam, I swear I did not smuggle a snake and put it in Jameson's room… That is the absolute truth." Tom said it without hesitation and looked her in the eye the entire time.

She wavered for a moment, almost as though she believed him - he was telling the truth, after all. But she gritted her teeth and said, "You are to be confined to the cupboard under the stairs for two days!"

 _Only two?_

Tom didn't mind the solitude of the small dark space if he had to endure it; it was quiet in there, and he could think about things more easily.

"Yes Madam…" With that he got up and made his way to his "cell", with Madam Chani following closely behind to secure the door on him.

Tom had been sitting cross legged in the dark for a while now, he had lost track of time. Sitting in the dark quietly for long enough could sometimes make you forget you even had a body; you were just a floating consciousness in the void.

A sudden flood of light brought Tom back to reality, the door opened and somebody was shining a flashlight in on him, but he couldn't make out who it was.

"You like to play with snakes, Riddle? Let's see how you like being cooped up with one for the next two days…" It was Nickerson's voice. He threw something into the cupboard before the door was closed and locked again.

" _Hello masster."_ It was Jade, a most beautiful purple garden snake. Jade had landed on his chest, and immediately slithered up his torso, and perched around his shoulders.

Tom stroked the snake's head, " _Thank you for sstriking enemy for me. I did not know who had done it when I had heard."_

 _"_ _I bit fat boy ssingle time, would have bit again, but fat boy tasstess like sspoiled meat."_

 _"_ _thssss thsss thssss"_ Tom let out a hissing laugh.

" _Masster bringss me ratss… I will always be yourss."_ Jade the snake said.

 _At least I have some good company for the next couple of days. And an obedient servant... I wonder..._

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Two votes were taken by the children a week later. Tom had to give Madam Chani credit for letting them choose, rather than her normal routine. The first decision went in Tom's favor, the second did not.

Tom was pleased to see only two children raised their hands to cast votes for buying a new wireless set and skipping this summer's "outing". He was less happy when everyone but himself, Matthew and Stephenson raised their hands to vote for a seaside trip. "Such a treat!"

And now here they were. Tom could swim as well as any other child, but he saw no point in splashing around in the water, or trying to touch the bottom. Besides, it was near impossible to defend yourself in the water if Jameson or Nickerson decided to attack.

Instead he was sitting in the sand beside Matthew. As usual, neither of them had spoken in a while - there was some type of quiet bond between them which Tom couldn't quite understand.

Matthew barely broke the silence when he quietly asked Tom, "How long do you think it would take a person to drown?" He wasn't looking at Tom when he spoke, but rather staring out into the waves where the other children were playing.

"I don't know," Tom admitted. "I suppose it depends how long they can hold their breath, and probably a bunch of other things… Like if somebody was holding you under and you were panicking or if you had your foot caught under a rock, but could catch a breath when a wave broke once in a while…

"Why do you ask?" Tom asked Matthew, with the same emotionless tone that the boy used to speak.

"I was just curious; it seems like a bad way to go if it takes longer than a few moments…"

 _Are you implying it would be a good way to kill someone because of how torturous it would be?_

Tom didn't dare be the first one to imply they might have common interests. Instead, he said, "Yeah, I expect it would be a bad way to go."

"I'm going to go and sit up on that rock that sticks out from the cliff," Matthew said as he stood up and turned to walk away.

 _To jump off? Or perhaps plot a murder?_ _Is even my presence too much for Matthew?_

Tom continued to sit in the sand and watch the waves, ignoring the children playing and laughing. He was perfectly content to sit here alone and ponder things. As much as he enjoyed being alone, he could hardly blame Matthew for leaving him.

 _Alone is all an orphan has. Alone protects one._

Tom noticed there were some sticks lying around, so he collected a couple of handfuls and brought them back to his spot. He dug a hole in the sand and set the sticks up in a teepee fashion.

 _I wish I had a magnifying glass; I could start my own little fire here._ Tom stared at the base of the pile and imagined what that would look like…

 _There would be a focused point of light and heat, a blazing white point on the surface of the tinder. The point would start to char the wood, and it would begin to smoke…_

Although he was barely aware of it, the picture in his mind was becoming reality, the wood beginning to billow wisps of smoke.

 _Faster and faster it would heat up, a spark perhaps, a brief yellow flame and more smoke… Another stronger flame, a whip of fire which circles the pile and ignites it…_

Tom snapped to reality when he felt the first wave of heat and heard the pop of the wood.

He stared at it for a moment, and then looked around.

 _I'm dreaming. I must be. This can't be..._

Tom stopped and looked at the crackling flames in his small fire pit. He reached out and waved his hand over - and then again, but this time much slower, and right through the flames.

It hurt, but he didn't hasten. Slowly he withdrew and looked at his hand.

 _Red and throbbing… That fire certainly hurt me, and I've never felt pain in a dream, though my dreams..._

Tom thought about the pain, it was certainly real… A hot throbbing sharpness… He watched his hand turn from red slowly to pink and then back to a more pale white again as the pain disappeared.

 _That certainly points towards this being a dream… How can I be certain?_

He wasn't completely sure that he was dreaming, but he had to consider it.

 _There have been other odd happenings around me which other people had been influenced by… They can't all be dreams… I have to sit down and write this all out and figure out…_ _What is going on…_

Tom looked up at the cliff where Matthew was sitting.

 _He's the only person I dare speak to about anything._

Tom stood up and turned his back on the small fire that burned in the sand. As he stepped away, it flared up - burned away to ash - then nothing.

He made his way up the shallow incline of the hill and slowly walked towards the ledge where the boy was sitting. He couldn't help but think how easy it would be to push the boy into the sea since nobody had seen him approach, planning it perfectly. He had more important things to do with Matthew now, and besides, that boy would be the last person he'd ever kill, even if he could easily get away with it.

He walked over, scuffing his feet on the stone to announce his presence to the boy, but Matthew never turned.

Tom sat beside him and looked out at the water from this new perspective.

 _From here, those other children simply look like tiny insects, splashing around in a gigantic natural force which they can't even begin to see._

Tom waited a few minutes before speaking, giving Matthew the chance to break the silence, but he never did. So he decided to speak in the same strange way that Matthew would have.

"How would a person know if they are dreaming?" Tom didn't look at Matthew directly, but he was watching out of the corner of his eye.

The boy didn't hesitate for a moment with his reply, nor did he make any move to look at Tom. "I don't think they would, until they woke up…"

Tom waited; normally, silence would provoke a longer explanation with people, but not Matthew. So he asked, "How do you wake up then, if you wanted to make sure?" while looking at the other boy.

"In my dreams, I sometimes wake up if I'm about to die. Other times I notice things just aren't right and I snap awake."

 _I can't ever really remember my dreams, and when I do…_

"Couldn't I just ask you if I am dreaming? I mean, if you know you're awake, then you can tell me this is real life."

Matthew still was absentmindedly looking out at the sea as he replied, "I guess, but if you were dreaming, isn't that what I'd say anyway?"

"I don't know…" Tom admitted and looked away. He let the silence hang for a few more moments, hoping the other boy was thinking about what Tom had said. "Well - would you just tell me, if this is a dream? For my own satisfaction?" Tom would never ask such an odd question to anybody else.

Matthew actually turned, looked at him briefly, and then turned away. "From what I can tell, I'm not dreaming. I don't think you are either."

Tom didn't know what to do with that.

"Well - but what if I start doing crazy things, like creating fire from nothing, or blowing things up with my mind? Then it must be a dream, don't you think? Nobody can do those things."

Matthew took a brief moment to reply this time. "Maybe they can't… If you are dreaming, what does that make of me then?"

Tom considered that.

 _Is this a dream? He seems to be real; this all seems to be real…_ _There could be some weird effect that caused the fire, I don't know much about science…_ _All the other coincidences though?_ _I don't think there is any question that I can talk to snakes…_ _Maybe I'm crazy, but they do like me and respond to me, they even follow complicated orders._ _I've used snakes to influence other people, I think that's proof that I can speak with them…_

Tom felt somewhat relieved; it seemed likely he was neither dreaming nor crazy, but another panic was building up because he couldn't understand what was happening recently.

"Well, thank you Matthew… I don't think you have to worry, I don't think I'm dreaming."

"Oh, alright."

Tom stood up and took one last look out at the vast power of the sea. He knew about tides and currents and all that…

 _Is it normal to be able to actually feel that power coursing through the air? I can smell it, I can almost see it._ _If I wanted I might reach out and touch it…_

Tom had enough to think about, so he turned and walked back down towards the beach area.

Halfway down the path he noticed a break in the trees, another, far less-used path. He followed it. It wound its way around to the other side of the peak, and apparently ended with a cliff overlooking the sea. He couldn't see the other children from this position.

Tom looked around, and up the cliff. He noticed a small cave about twenty feet up - it was very steep, but it looked possible to climb up…

Tom had noticed recently he was getting stronger and more athletic, yet even still he found it surprisingly easy to climb and pull himself up the rocks to get into the small opening of the cave.

Once inside he could hear a powerful rushing sound, reverberating through the cave, and Tom could again feel the raw power in the air, and he _knew_ the sea was flowing through the rocks somewhere in here.

Tom followed the passage despite the fading light, his hand on the wall and his feet taking cautious steps. After a few minutes of walking, and taking two right turns, he started to see light again. A hole in the side of the cave showed the cliffs, the shore, and the powerful rushing stream of sea that passed through the side of the cavern.

Tom wanted to get closer to the rushing water; it was calling to him. He took the small leap down to a ledge, and another small jump got him down onto the sand.

Once he was down in the bottom of the cavern, he realized he wasn't alone.

The sound of his entry had startled a girl over in the corner, and she shrieked. Tom noticed that she wasn't alone either, there was a boy with her, he had his shirt off and they were pressed close to each other.

Tom looked at them curiously. He knew what they were doing right away, but he had never actually seen people kissing and necking, or even thought about it. The boy yelled out, and Tom realized it was Dennis Bishop. All he really knew about the boy was that he was fourteen, large for his age, which meant that not even Jameson picked on him.

"What are you doing here, Riddle? Creeping around on us, like a pervert! Here's proof that you're mental!"

Tom stared at him blankly, and then he looked at the girl. He never did much with the girls on the other wing of the home, but his irrepressible memory helpfully provided details. Amy Benson, either 11 or 12.

"I asked you, what the hell are you doing!" Bishop was approaching Tom now, making his way around the shore of the vast rushing power.

For some reason Tom felt a lot more confident than he had any right to be. Bishop could easily wipe him out if it came to a fight, so he used his most natural weapon instead, that of words.

"I'm exploring. I see you were doing some exploring of your own, over there with Benson." Tom was standing straight as he said it, and there was no hint of panic in his voice. Something was giving him courage and strength.

That statement rattled Bishop; he stopped advancing for a moment and hesitated. "You had better keep your bloody mouth shut, Riddle. Or else I'll bring you back to this cave, and only one of us will ever leave."

 _He's offering me an out, my silence in exchange for my escape… I should take it. Yet, he presumes too much…_ _Maybe he never leaves… I am growing tired of these ignorant children showing me just how superior they are, when they are not…_

"How's this for a deal?" Tom started his proposition with open arms and a smile. "I won't tell anybody what I saw here, and I definitely won't exaggerate it to make it look much worse…" Tom paused to let that sink in and tapped his cheek with a finger.

"In exchange, you will now do me favors, whatever I need, whenever I need it. No questions asked, otherwise I'll have quite a tale to tell anybody who is willing to listen…"

Tom took a breath, he had spoken a little faster than he had meant to, he was getting a little anxious as he spoke, and he was sure Bishop had noticed it.

The older boy made his way forward again and said, "How's this for a deal, I'm going to just break one of your ribs. You keep quiet and I won't break anymore, but if you –"

Bishop was cut off mid-sentence by some type of mild earthquake, a wave crashing against the cave perhaps. With his thought cut off, he went quiet and started moving forward faster. He was about ten feet away now, and Tom could read murder in his eyes.

All his senses felt heightened: the smell of the salt, the sound of the surf, the color of the sea... and that one other thing, the sense of rushing power was almost overwhelming. Tom closed his eyes and let the sound and feeling of the rushing water engulf him. He almost felt like he was on fire, except it was pleasant, his entire body was tingling and vibrating with some force.

When he opened his eyes Bishop was almost on him, but it didn't matter anymore.

Some intuition kicked in, and Tom mentally reached out for that power in the air, he grasped it and used his hands to direct some type of invisible force at Bishop. The older boy was lifted from his feet and thrown back a great distance. He landed in an awkward position, groaned, and moved no more.

Amy screamed and ran over to her swain. As she shook him, he groaned some more. She kept crying and yelling something incomprehensible, trying to slap him.

She turned to Tom with a look that he couldn't decipher and said, "You're going to prison, Riddle! I know you did it! I saw you wave your hand!"

"Oh. Like this?" Tom waved his hand, picturing that invisible force in his palm. He didn't know what would happen, but he knew Amy wouldn't like it.

The cave shook again, and stones rained down from the ceiling, peppering both Bishop and Benson.

Amy was crying out in pain as pebbles struck her all over. Dennis was hurt so much; he could only roll onto his stomach to protect himself.

Tom looked up at the source of the stone rain and noticed a particularly large stone almost shaken free from the rock face.

 _If it falls, it'll hit her..._

And so it did, the melon-sized stone landing on Amy's leg, crushing it and causing her to go absolutely hysterical. She was screaming and crying, drooling and rocking back and forth.

Tom watched for a few moments, rather amused and feeling stronger than he ever had before. When she had begun to quiet a little Tom spoke up in a high voice with no warmth or kindness to it, no longer the voice of a child.

"Final offer, you came in here to do whatever you want to tell people, and there was an earthquake that hurt you." Tom was dictating the story. "I was never here. If you promise this and I believe you, I will send help without implicating myself. If it happens that I do not believe you… I will never speak of this, and both of you will be trapped here."

Tom stared into Amy's eyes, past the tears, past the fear.

"I promise… Tom, please… I don't even… know what happened… just send help." She managed to sob out the statement. Tom maintained eye contact.

 _It just "feels" like she is telling the truth… She is absolutely terrified…_

Tom turned and made his way back to the cavern exit without another word.

"TOM! YOU WILL SEND HELP! RIGHT!?" Amy was calling after him, her words hard to make out.

He didn't reply he simply made his way out of the cave and back towards the beach as though nothing had happened.

Though as he walked back toward the main trail he found that he couldn't lie to himself and say nothing had happened.

 _I just have no idea what it was that happened… Bishop and Benson are hurt, bad…_ _I am almost certain I made that happen…_ _They truly brought it on themselves, however, whatever it was…_ _I never asked to walk in on their business; I was minding my own…_

Tom was truly smiling. It had been a long time since that had happened. He felt strong and confident for casting down his enemies with no effort.

 _I wonder if this is how Jameson feels when he grabs you and slams you to the ground, using his weight to hold you until you cry out…_

That made Tom's smile falter a little.

 _No, I never did anything to get Jameson, or Nickerson, or any of their attention. They picked on me because I was weak._ _I taught Bishop and Benson a lesson they had coming._ _In fact, there are a lot of lessons which need to be taught now that I think about it._

Tom was still thinking when he hit the main trail, and ran into Matthew coming down the hill.

The boy noticed Tom, and then took a second glance and gave Tom a strange look. Strange in the fact that Matthew never seemed to give any kind of looks.

Tom immediately thought his clothes must be dirty so he looked, but they were clean.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked Matthew

"Nothing, it's nearly time to leave."

Tom simply nodded and walked with the boy back to the beach.


End file.
